


Draco Preparedness

by olimakiella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Frustrated!Harry, M/M, Mpreg, Oblivious!Draco, Party Planning, auror!Ron, but the baby is Seamus', it's Blaise, not Draco or Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olimakiella/pseuds/olimakiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being an events planner for the Quidditch World Cup Gala is not so new to Draco Malfoy, neither is working on a tight budget with a low work force. This time around he's been given the QWC Liaison to make the work easier. Only problem is the Liaison is Harry Potter, fresh from a stint of prolonged meditation and finding himself. Potter has other matters on his mind, like offering Draco unwanted lunches, trapping him in elevators and generally just being confusing. Draco seriously believes Potter has it in for him – and he does – just not the way Draco believes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jan_rea](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jan_rea).



> All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I also don't own Xerox paper.

Draco looked up from the preliminary plans he was working on in his temporary office. It was always given to him when he was employed to plan a Ministry Gala. It was the least they could do, especially given the type and size of the damn thing. The Quidditch World Cup was over in a month and, now that all the sites were booked, all the players had to do was show up and play and the plans for the World Cup Gala that occurred every four years after the final match were in full swing. Draco always complained about the time they gave him to plan these things, as if he were on their beck-and-call. It made him roll his eyes every time he got a floo-call from the Minister's Permanent Secretary.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened. The first thing Draco noticed was the green label on the coffee cup. The second thing he noticed was the person holding it. "Hey, Ferret. Hermione sent me to get her that peppermint tea stuff from that cafe in Diagon Alley."

Draco took his reading glasses off and held up a hand. That didn't smell like tea. "Tell me that cup is for me, Weasel, and I'll be your willing love-slave for all eternity."

Ron blushed but shook his head, smiling. "Zabini told me to come on in. I had three, one was for him."

Draco nodded, knowing that Blaise required payment if anyone was allowed in to disturb him. Peppermint tea from Diagon's leading cafe was just the ticket. Rule was, if he was in his office he wanted privacy. Blaise understood that and pretty soon everyone else, under Blaise's tutelage, understood that too. Ron held out the cup and Draco took it greedily inhaling the sweet aroma of caffeine.

"Oh, I love you when Granger is pregnant." He took a hefty swallow and moaned. Mt. Olympus truly was a cafe from the gods. The only thing that beat their beverages was their pastries. He gestured for Ron to take a seat and snuggled down into his own chair.

Ron rolled his eyes but took a seat anyway. He'd long since given up on getting Draco to call his wife by her married name. "Yes... well, I'll be claiming one of those sexual favours soon. Hermione is getting a little crazy with her moods lately." He scratched the back of his head. "I may have to ask Seamus what the hell he does to get some because I sure as hell don't know."

Draco grinned but didn't take the bait. It was too easy, even for him. Instead, he nodded with him. "Maybe you should ask Blaise. It's  _his_ good side Seamus has to get on." Blaise claimed he'd trained the ex-Gryffindor up well before committing to anything. However, Draco knew the little biological present he had growing wasn't made on purpose. It was more a result of a night's worth of drinks and a disastrous morning-after. Twelve weeks later, he was sobbing on Draco's shoulder trying to figure out what to do.

Of course, Draco – not being an expert in the area – had gone to the only pregnant people he knew, namely Granger and Weasley, and told them to sort it out. He had no idea what she did but Granger's meddling was good for something, obviously. Seamus had turned up out of the blue, blue-eyed and blushing to his roots, whisking Blaise away on dates and travelling all over the place. If Quidditch season wasn't in full swing, Draco was sure Blaise wouldn't even put in any hours at work, preferring to spend his days with Finnigan.

Now, months later, the two were heavily pregnant and apparently driving their other halves insane.

Ron shook his head. "Can't. I'm no good at extracting information like that without sounding suspicious. And Blaise wouldn't give out that kind of information for free. Best I stick to what I know, you know? Get the free stuff while I still can."

Draco held up a finger, signalling Ron to hold on, and sat up. "Mmm," he said with his mouth full, and swallowed the brown elixir down. He began rooting through his top drawers. "Speaking of, I got these from Mr. Brown. You told me you weren't able to get seats last time because they ran out." He paused to turn to him. "And you did come at me late so I didn't have any, but..." He continued searching until he found the small cream envelope. "Ah ha! There they are."

"Wha–" Ron sat forward, his mouth hanging agape when he saw the familiar-looking envelope with the golden snitch embossed on the top right corner. "Merlin's balls," he swore. "They're for the finals?"

Draco nodded. "I may be the one claiming sexual favours, no?" He grinned, handing over the envelope, and settled back again with his coffee in hand. He chuckled when Ron just nodded silently. "Good. I've been lacking lately."

Ron, seemingly snapping out of his trance-like state, snorted. "Oh, so the line of admirers has dwindled has it?"

"Hey, don't laugh at me. Those people don't know the first thing about me. One guy the other day came up to me in the cafeteria and put his arm around me – called me 'honey'." Draco shuddered. "Granger thought I knew him, she was ready to introduce herself and everything. Too bad his arm got broken in three places." He took a sip of his coffee. When he registered Ron's raised eyebrows he shrugged. "What? I'm searching for  _the one_. And that man does not 'the one' make," he finished philosophically. "I'm the only one of this rag-tag group that doesn't have anyone, now. What's worse, the  _'grab-a-Gryffindor'_  fever has become an epidemic. First Pansy goes for Longbottom of  _all_ people and now Blaise is shacking up with Finnigan. I almost believe I'm living in an alternate universe."

Ron shook his head at Draco's story. He sighed despite himself and gave the man a rueful grin. "Hmm, I know what you mean. Just think,  _me_ bringing you coffee." Ron laughed.

Draco stared at him and began to laugh, noticing the scar that ran behind Ron's left ear as he tilted his head back. It had hurt, he knew. He had one to match on his shoulder to prove it. The cut had been deep and had taken weeks to heal due to the amount of magic that went into the cutting spell. Draco was sure if the maniac had had more time, the wound would have been a lot worse and Weasley might not even be there now bringing him coffee, The red-head had been extremely self-conscious about the scar a few years ago, just after the war. He was okay with it now though and stopped growing his hair to hide it, much to his mother's relief.

Draco couldn't say the same. The scar he had ran across his left shoulder, where he'd pushed Weasley out of the way. His wasn't visible to anyone as he could wear clothes to hide it but he'd had enough of potential suitors going on about it or, worse, insisting he get rid of it. They obviously thought he was stupid or suffering under delusions of grandeur. Draco was much too shallow for that. If he could have got rid of it, he would have. He ignored the hollowness in his stomach that thinking about the encounter always gave him and pushed the feeling aside. "Besides, Gryffindor has all the best men. Don't you know? It's time you wised up, Malfoy."

Draco took a pencil from the stationery pot he'd brought from his office and threw it at him. "Oh, fuck off. Not all of them are from that red-filled tower, you absolute bastard."  
Ron seemed to sober a bit as he sat there. His hand unconsciously went to scratch his head but Draco knew exactly where those fingers were touching. "No," Ron said looking at him. "Not all of them."

Draco playfully narrowed his eyes at him. He'd thought enough about that for the decade. "Doesn't Kingsley keep his Aurors busy? How is it you had time to go all the way to Diagon Alley  _and_ stop for a chat without him noticing anything?"

Ron sat there for a moment longer, making Draco wait before he willingly took the bait to lighten the mood. "Don't you know? Everyone's so preoccupied in seeing what the _'Great Draco Malfoy, Events Planner Extraordinaire'_ has in store for them come August, no one has any time to commit crimes any more." He grinned unrepentantly. "Thanks for that by the way."

Draco rolled his eyes and threw another pencil at him from his pot. "Oh, flatterer. Go on," he said, shooing him away with his hand, "be gone with you. The Extraordinary Draco Malfoy has work to do if he intends to keep criminals off the street."

Ron stood up, chuckling, and went to the door to leave him in peace. Draco put back on his glasses and peered down at the schematic in front of him some more. In a way he was glad for Weasley's interruption. He hadn't noticed that miscalculation on the side by the hall's eastern window. "Shit," he said quietly to himself, and tilted his head.  _No wonder the damn thing was so confusing_. He reached up for a muggle rubber out of the pot. Ever since Granger had stated she would occupy a 'Permanent Place of Friendship' in his life – whether he liked it or not – she'd given him the brown ceramic pot and a load of muggle pens and pencils (which she replenished every Christmas without fail) all marked with either  _BIC_  or  _WH Smith_ , whatever the fuck they were, claiming they were now going to be a 'symbol' of their friendship.

He'd looked at her much the same way Weasley had looked at her that day – as if she were crazy – but had taken the gift all the same. He'd kept it on his desk in his office ever since he'd started his business. His first job had been because of her – she was the Permanent Secretary after all. One day, she'd come into his temporary office on her lunch break, under false pretences of 'checking up on the Fete he was planning', when he knew she was just checking up on  _him_ (he'd consulted Weasley, apparently the behaviour was normal) and he hadn't missed the delighted smile she'd tried to hide from him when she'd seen it. He brought it with him now whenever he had a ministry job.

It wasn't much as 'thank-yous' went, but it was the least he could do.

"Hey, Ferret." Draco's head snapped up again and frowned. He hadn't noticed Weasley hadn't left yet. Ron put a fist over his heart and looked very sincere when he said gravely, "Keep fighting the good fight." He disappeared in time for the rubber to hit the door exactly where his head had been.

"Why the hell does he want me to decorate the Hall in the winning team's colours?" Draco asked, and stared down at the empty plate in front of him. He contemplated licking it and wondered if that would be bad. He hadn't cared that it was expensive, it was  _divine_. That more than made up for its sinfulness. Besides, Hermione was covering this trip. "Isn't that a tad gauche?" he continued once he'd allowed the temptation to pass. "I know they'll all be happy they won but this celebration is for all participants in the World Cup. Having to face the colour of the team that got your dream is a bit overkill." His finger ran through the cream that had fallen out of his chocolate éclair. Surely that wasn't against etiquette. He looked around anyway as he sucked the finger into his mouth.  _Mmm. Heaven._ He tried not to close his eyes. Honestly.

"I know," Hermione replied, putting down her second bun. She covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke. "I tried to explain that to him, but he sees it as either you decorate in one of their colours or all the colours."

Draco nearly dropped his coffee cup. " _All_  of them?" He didn't even stop to contemplate the insanity of that idea. "Is he snorting Pixie Dust?" He sat back and stretched his neck muscles. She'd saved him from a desk load of samples and photographs of the new hall the Department Head of Sports and Utilities had suddenly decided to use. Draco had been working under the impression the gala would take place in the same ministry hall they were always held in. He'd nearly killed the man through use of the sharp textile tools in his drawer. He'd yet to be assigned the help he'd been promised. A typical ministry happening, which is why he usually outsourced his own. The formal request letter he'd received, however, informed him that since the event was not for the ministry in general but tailored to one department's needs, he'd be assigned a workforce from Sports and Utilities to help him and ' _...aid in departmental holistic development'_.

_What the hell does that even mean, anyway?_

The state he was in before lunch, Hermione had taken one look at him and demanded his presence in helping her devour the Mt. Olympus Cafe post-haste. He hadn't bothered to argue with her, just thrown off his glasses, picked up his cloak and followed her out. The proprietor had obviously sold his soul to run the place, it was only polite to make his investment worth it.

"Oh Merlin." Draco let his head fall back as stared at the ceiling. Woe came at him from every corner these days. "Now I have to meet with the Sports Department Head to demand the damn people he promised me."

"Targus still hasn't delivered?" Hermione said, taking the fork from her mouth. She frowned, contemplative. "I had a word with him about it last week. He gave me some cock and bull story about waiting for a valuable member of the team. He told me he'd try to sort it out quicker."

Draco scoffed and looked out the window of the cafe. "If he went any slower time would stand still." Draco glanced at his watch. His gaze went up to the display case again. He thought about getting another éclair to take away.

"You might as well," Hermione's voice penetrated his thoughts as if she were reading them. "I sure as hell am."

Draco almost wished he'd taken a longer lunch.

"Well, how many will you need?" Targus Shields had obvious never planned anything larger than a toddler's birthday party. Draco felt an overwhelming tendency of homicide coming on.

He rubbed at his temples. "Well, that all depends, how busy are you? Look - the last WC gala I did for you I did with my own people  _and_ it was a damn fine one, especially since it was not only the first of its kind but the one to make up for its predecessor." The 1997 gala had been scarce and rare, especially since the Quidditch World Cup had taken place immediately after the war. No one really feels like celebrating when most if not all their family is gone. The gala of 2001 had been pressure. After all, it was the son of a Death Eater hosting a celebration to bring people together after the previous one was wrecked by the planner's father and his father's friends. Not a nice job to have, but he'd done it and he'd done it well.

Targus did honestly look regretful, which appeased Draco a little but not much. "I know, I am sorry, but I promise you it will all go smoother once my liaison gets here. He was supposed to be here since last week but he got held up in a meeting in Germany." Targus stood up walking to the door. "I can help you until then with whatever you need and if you want you can have your pick of whoever you want in the department. I've held you back enough."

Draco tried to listen but the rest of Targus' words melted away after the word 'liaison' had crossed his ears. He couldn't mean who Draco thought he meant. But then, there wasn't another one in the ministry and the previous Sports Liaison had retired three years ago. Targus was still speaking as he led Draco out of his office, directing him through his department and past cubicles of 'potential helpers', but Draco still couldn't hear him. He could feel his heart beating rapidly. World Cup Liaison only meant one person: Potter.

"Oh, well speak of Morgana, there he is now." Targus seemed surprised. Compared to Draco the man didn't know the meaning of the word. "Potter, over here!"

Draco felt his world tilt sideways as Harry Potter turned from the conversation he was having and gave Targus a smile and a nod. Potter had only been working at the Ministry for four weeks as an Administrative Assistant under Targus Shield when his knowledge of the Sport had earned him a promotion. He'd been sent on assignment for the World Cup of 2001 but Draco had seen very little of him since the season had him so busy. Thank Merlin. If Draco had to take one more look at his shining self-confidence he'd go blind from the glare.

Harry Potter had been a total wreck after the war. Death and suffering could do that to a person. He'd disappeared for two years and come back a changed man. He wasn't sure on all the details but from his surreptitious talks with Hermione and Ronald he'd gathered Potter had been at a retreat learning how to 'find himself', chanting with monks and travelling the world to get to his centre and purpose. Draco only wished he could go there too, and perhaps buy some land, because it seemed like a damn fine place to be. Potter was a new man. He was confident, powerful and he had command of that power instead of shying away from it and the attention it garnered. He'd found his purpose, had grown into himself... and he was happy.

He was sexy too.

Draco watched him walk towards them wearing a dark button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to show strong forearms covered in tanned skin. He had on dark jeans too, and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head sweeping his hair back. He didn't seem to care that the scar, even though faded now, was showing. His whole stance screamed carefree and loving life. Draco craved that kind of feeling every day.

Still, though, he looked  _good_.

"Mr. Shields, sir, nice to see you." Harry held out his hand to him. Merlin, even his voice sounded sexy. Draco looked away, feeling like an awkward outsider.

"Likewise." He wasn't watching but he could see the shake in Targus' frame as he shook Harry's hand. "I hope you're ready, Malfoy here has been waiting a week to be getting on with the gala plans."

Draco was surprised he'd been brought into the conversation so quickly. He'd assumed there would be catching up to do before the reason the ministry was spending so much money on him was given priority. When he turned back to the conversation it was to see clear green eyes watching him. A bright smile knocked him for six and, strangely enough, Draco found himself looking at his teeth.  _So straight_.

"Hello, Draco." The words echoed a few times before Draco recognised them as a greeting.

"Potter. You look –"  _Fucking handsome_ "– healthy. The meditation must be working."

Harry seemed to find his remark endlessly amusing. His eyes traversed Draco's frame, probably looking for something to comment on in return. "Every morning and evening, six o'clock on the dot. You should try it, you look tense." His hands went behind his back, his remarkably even teeth biting into his lower lip as if he'd said something cheeky.

 _Give me ten minutes in the nearest bathroom, I'll be fine_. "I'll look into it."

Harry looked between him and Targus as if waiting for something. It was then Targus remembered he'd called the man over for a reason. "Harry, my boy, I'll need your reports before you start working with Draco here. I realise how busy you are –"

"No, I have them here." Harry reached down into his messenger bag he had slung over his shoulders and pulled out a folder. "I did them on the plane. I hope you don't mind bond paper. I ducked into an internet cafe on the way over."

"Bond... Internet cafe?" Targus spoke as if he were trying out a new language.

Harry waved off the question. "Ah that part's not important. What is, is that you can read it, right?"

"Oh, yes – my, these pages are very white, what spells did you use?"

Harry gave him a quizzical look, as if he hadn't been expecting that question. "I'll have to ask  _Xerox_." He gave the man a grin.

Targus nodded absently as he began reading through the report. "Remarkably white..." he trailed off as he walked into his office.

Harry grinned at him before directing his gazed to Draco. "Shall we?" Draco nodded as he walked towards his office. It had been placed within the department so that he wouldn't have to travel great distances to get anything. He saw Blaise sitting at his desk reading through a book. He didn't see the title until he got closer. "You're reading a baby name book?" he asked as he walked up to his secretary's desk.

"I am," Blaise didn't even raise his head.

"You don't already have one?" Draco knew purebloods, they always had a name. They'd probably been thinking about one since they were in school.

"I do." He finally looked up. "I'm compromising." He didn't seem happy about it. Before Draco could ask him what he meant, Blaise finally noticed the man standing next to him. "Well, well, well, look what the monks finally delivered. Potter, you look devastating." Blaise batted his eyes comically.

Harry laughed playfully. "Why thank you, Zabini, you look like a miracle. I see my prayers have come through. I was beginning to think all was lost." Draco's eyes switched between the two as they spoke; he wished he was able to do that, flirt so effortlessly without censure. Once again he felt awkward just standing there. "I may have to have a word with Seamus, make sure he's treating you right, he's got competition now."

Blaise grinned and turned his gaze to Draco. "Keep this one, I like him."

Draco rolled his eyes and went inside his office. "Go back to your book. Merlin knows the ministry has to pay us for  _something_." He smiled at Blaise's laugh. He was sitting at his desk by the time Harry came in and shut his door. "Let's get this started, shall we?"

Harry sat back in the visitor's chair after he took off his bag. "Yes, let's."

"Well, I know the last game hasn't been played yet but do you have any idea who's most likely to at least get into the finale?" Draco was searching for his notebook as he took a pencil from his stationery pot.

"Looking for an easy win, Draco? Shame on you." Draco snapped his gaze to Potter seeing him smile at him. He'd obviously not meant it as an insult, but Draco hadn't gone through the intense relaxation sessions Potter had. It was hard to let go of it all.

"The Minister wants me to decorate the hall in the winning colours. It will be hard to do that on short notice. If I can get a likely colour palette, it will make mixing them easier. It will look less like the hall was decorated by the colour blind."

Harry laughed but easily got back on track. It was easier to talk about work after that. Draco was surprised. The man obviously knew about his work and his in-depth knowledge was actually very helpful. Draco found himself equally looking forward to and dreading the next month. They were still talking when Blaise knocked on his office door.

Draco looked up to see Blaise and Ron in their cloaks. He glanced down at his watch. It was quarter past four.

"Sorry to interrupt but I want to go home," Blaise said bluntly. Draco waved him off and wasn't surprised to see him immediately disappear from the doorway. He rolled his eyes. Ron was still smiling when Draco propped his head on his hand, wondering why Blaise was still employed. He got up and put on his cloak. He was sick to death of the QWC gala already and he hadn't even started yet. Tomorrow he would get back into it but tonight he wanted to forget it completely.

"On that note. I'm leaving too." He took his wand and shoved it in its holster. The schematics were next as he rolled them up. "I'm tired, and this... has been a very long day." Ron nodded to him as he passed with his work in his hand. "Lock up for me. I'm going home to collapse." He turned to Harry. "Potter. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Will do." He watched Draco walk towards the lifts, cocking his head to the side when the blond bypassed them completely to take the stairs. He shrugged mentally; they were only a floor down from the atrium. He hadn't been sure what he would meet when he arrived back in England, but he certainly hadn't expected this. Draco was different. He couldn't pinpoint what it was but he smiled as he realised he wouldn't mind investigating.

"No. No, Harry,  _no_." He snapped his gaze to Ron and frowned. Ron looked annoyed. He was sure if the redhead had a newspaper, he would have rolled it and smacked him on the nose.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Don't – look, I know you, I know that  _look_ , and I know a rule unbroken is irresistible to you but I'm telling you  _no_. It's a bad idea." Ron gestured for him to leave Draco's office and shut the door behind him, locking it with a spell.

Harry swung the strap of his messenger bag over his head as he turned around to face his best friend. "I don't have a look."

Ron chuckled knowingly as they walked to the lifts. They were meeting Hermione upstairs in the atrium. "Oh, so you  _weren't_ staring at Malfoy's arse like it was the last treacle tart at the Gryffindor table?"

Harry actually looked a little put out there. He'd noticed. He didn't know he'd been  _staring._ "No."

Ron started to laugh. "It's a bad idea," he reinforced as he pressed the button for the lift.

Harry stood there waiting for the lift. He understood now why Draco took the stairs. The man looked tired. Targus had obviously been running him ragged. The blond had mentioned multiple times in their conversation about Shields withholding a workforce. How he could've already started doing the groundwork last week if the man fulfilled his promises. He'd have to have a word with his boss about that. Harry had been listening, mostly, though his attention had been caught several times by the short piece of hair that kept escaping the back of Draco's ear as he spoke and wrote down notes at the same time, by his tongue that poked out a little as he gave his work the utmost concentration. He'd heard of the exploits of Draco Malfoy from Hermione already; the story of him breaking some guy's unwanted arm for putting it around him had particularly amused him. Though, now that he'd seen him he didn't blame the guy, whoever he was. Although, if he tried it again, Draco would have to beat him Harry to it. "Why?" he asked his friend finally as the lift doors opened. Thankfully the lift was empty.

Ron scoffed, hitting the button for the atrium immediately. "Malfoy isn't interested. He's turned down a load of offers, some of them even good enough to surpass you, oh Holy one."

Harry laughed, his hand coming to his chest. "Judas!" he exclaimed.

Ron stared at him. "Who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I need to get Hermione to teach you muggle references."

Ron shrugged. "I don't mind so much now, Malfoy doesn't know them either."

Harry grinned, tongue between his teeth. "I could always teach him." He waggled his eyebrows.

" _No._ " Ron seemed stern now.

Harry frowned. Ron was actually serious. "Since when have you been so protective?" He turned to him as the lift doors closed.

Ron crossed his arms at his chest. "Since he saved my life." Harry backed down. "As trite as this sounds, he's not the same as he was when you left for your retreat."

Harry leaned back against the wall behind him, the cool railing at the base of his spine. "How?"

This time Ron looked uncomfortable. "It's not my place to say." At Harry's raised eyebrows he sighed. "He's said to me before that he's vain and 'damaged'." He raised his fingers around the quote and shrugged.

Now that got his attention. "What?" Harry asked, his stare becoming vacant as if he could still see Draco walking away.

The doors opened to the atrium as Ron shook his head at him. "Well, he is vain but he's not damaged. You've obviously recognised this but he's..." He stopped talking and looked around before tugging at his collar. "See this?" Harry nodded, recognising the scar that ran from Ron's neck to behind his ear. He'd been in the Mediterranean when he'd heard about Ron being attacked. He hadn't heard the whole story but he got the gist of it, and of Draco's involvement. "He has one too, a scar from when they took me – it's... he doesn't like people staring, which I guess they do when he's with them, I don't know," he rambled uncomfortably. He shrugged; Draco Malfoy's sex life was something Ron wasn't interested in hearing about. What he did know, Hermione had clued him in on. She hoped him understanding would stop him from saying the wrong thing, as he was wont to do. "He says he's vain and doesn't like it, so no one gets near him. Not even you," he added, seeing the glint of a challenge rise in Harry's eyes. They sat waiting for Hermione in silence when it was clear she hadn't come upstairs yet.

Ron stole glances at Harry as he watched patrons walking around on their way home. It was obvious he hadn't changed his friend's mind. Ron huffed. "The guy's like a force of nature," he said, remembering Draco's retelling of how he'd broken 'Gareth from Accounting's arm. "Going after him now is like walking up to a hurricane or a tornado just to shake its hand." Ron turned to Harry in all seriousness. "He'll watch you like you're stupid and attack you from every angle to make you stand down. Stronger men than you have gone up against him and been left thrown on their arse not knowing what the hell happened. Just leave him alone."

Harry looked guilty. He thought he'd hidden his interest. "So you're not going to help me?"

Ron stood, seeing Hermione, and waved to her to get her attention. "No. Not since I know you're only looking to get into his pants," he added wryly. "He talks big but he talks that way for a reason. I owe him my life, mate. So unless you're planning to give him one, I'm not helping you with shit," he said, as Hermione walked up to Harry to give him a big hug.

Draco heaved a sigh as he listened to the man sitting across from him talking. He didn't know why people did this, just sit down at the table he was eating at and start jabbering on about something Draco clearly had no clue about. He spotted Potter walk into the cafeteria with Granger and waved to the pair to get their attention.

Potter noticed him first, his eyes moving from Draco to the man opposite him.  _Oh thank Merlin, they're coming over,_ he thought to himself as he rested his head on his palm in relief. The sandy-haired man across from him – what  _was_ his name? – didn't seem to like the idea of them having company but Draco couldn't give two squirts of Wrackspurt piss if he upset him. The man had obviously not thought of giving him the same courtesy. Potter was the first to sit down, placing himself in the marginally reducing space between Draco and the stranger. The expression on his face wasn't happy. "Granger, praise Merlin you're here. This man is suffering under the delusion that I'm interested in hearing about his – I'm sorry, what were you talking about?" he paused his rant to ask.

"My – my sister just had her baby. I was showing you the picture, see?"

Draco was staring at him as the man moved closer to show Draco the photograph clearly, as if he was somehow too blind to see the large-print picture one foot away from him. He backed away a little, though, as Potter cleared his throat and gestured to the plate before him where the man currently held his picture. Before Draco could answer, Potter spoke for him.

"Hermione – look, he's tried it your way but people don't get the message if he doesn't hurt them. Just let him break one finger."

Draco hadn't been sure Potter could get any more attractive. He turned to Hermione, hoping that the request coming from her best friend would ease her affirmation. "I can beg. I promise." He pointed at Harry. "Even Potter wants me to do it and he's been praying for world peace and sunshine for three years."

Harry looked far from upset at his words. In fact, he looked terribly amused. "Two years. And I meditate, I don't pray."

"What's the difference?"

Harry gave him a grin. "I'll show you some time."

Draco wasn't sure how to answer that. It sounded like a serious offer but he doubted Potter would follow through on it. Granger and Weasley had obviously given him 'the talk', the one that warned him to be on his best behaviour  _or else_. Potter hadn't been around when things had changed between him and the remaining two thirds of the Holy Triumvirate. He hadn't gone through the awkward silences and roundabout conversations that eventually led to cautious approach and tentative lunch dates. Draco knew that to an outsider the unlikely friendship would be surprising and hard to swallow. Potter had been gracious so far, Draco didn't want to push it. It was hard, though, not knowing how to react or respond to a Potter with such an easygoing attitude. The man before him was a walking oxymoron.

Draco suddenly realised he'd been staring at Harry, who was obviously waiting for an answer. "I'll take you up on that."

Harry gave him an easy smile. It made his stomach flip. "I'll be waiting."

"Just in case you wanted to know, Simon is gone." Hermione cut into her shepherd's pie.

Both Harry and Draco snapped out of their little bubble and looked around to see that the man bothering Draco was indeed gone. "Oh, thank Merlin for small mercies. This is why I prefer Mt. Olympus. If he touched my hand one more time –"

"He was touching your hand?"

Draco stopped short. Potter sounded rather angry. He was frowning. "Yeah –"

"That's sexual harassment."

Draco scoffed. "Hate to think what I would have done to him is called, then." He stood up with his plate in hand. "Oh well, back to the daily grind. We have yet to decide on a menu. I swear I don't know why I do these things."

Harry took a sip of his juice. "Because you love it and you're damn good at it, I'd imagine."

Draco smirked. "Be careful, Potter, that almost sounded like a compliment."

Harry leaned back. "You want more? Just fish. This lake is full." Draco's expression told him he didn't quite catch the analogy.  _Just like Ron,_ he thought fondly. "We should do lunch again sometime. Scare the locals. If it's this fun with just the threats, I'd pay to see you in action."

For that Harry actually received a smile. It lit up Draco's face and Harry found himself staring. "Now that, Potter, I  _will_ take you up on." After a nod to Hermione, the blond was gone. Harry sat stunned. He'd never seen Draco smile like that before. He'd never seen Draco  _smile._ Was it always like that? If so he had to start getting some jokes as soon as possible.

It took Hermione clicking her fingers in front of his face to drag him back to the cafeteria. "What?" Hermione was smiling at him. He could feel the flush take over his face. "What?" he asked her again.

She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her as she did. "Absolutely nothing. Though, I believe you should talk to Ron."

"Why?"

"Oh, well if you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you." She took a sip of her lemonade.

By three o'clock the next day, and after receiving another time-stopping smile from the blond as he delivered a small patisserie dish from Mt. Olympus he'd picked up on the way to work, Harry had figured it out. "I don't want what's in his pants."

Ron had nearly scratched a hole in his parchment with his quill. He looked up to see Harry staring at him like his world was ending but he couldn't wait for the brilliant light show. It was a tad disconcerting. "What?" he asked, eyeing his friend carefully. Despite the day being almost over, Harry looked a little more rumpled than he should. A far cry from the comfortable clean lines he made on a normal day. It was evident he'd been tormenting himself with something. Ron nearly smiled. At peace with himself, Harry may have been, but it seemed old habits die hard.

Harry perched on Ron's desk and crossed his arms as he stared down at the well-worn carpet in thought. "Well... I do, but it's not all I'm interested in."

Oh. They were talking about Draco. Again. Ron sighed. "What  _are_ you interested in?" It was the crux of the matter. And his actions in this mess depended on the answer.

Harry's head turned to him. He looked surprised. "You really want to talk about this?"

 _Ah. Counting on me being squeamish talking about 'feelings'._ He rolled his eyes. Spend enough time married to Hermione and you get used to talking about anything. "Yes. I do." He put down his quill and linked his fingers over his stomach as he sat back to prove his point.

Harry, obviously not expecting this turn of events, shrank down in Ron's cubicle. A hard thing to do with men of their sizes. Draco hardly fit in his cubicle when Targus had tried to assign him one the first time around. Harry looked around to make sure no one was watching or listening before he mumbled something unintelligible.

Ron didn't hear a word. "I don't speak 'mumble', Harry." It was a favourite line of Hermione's. He used it often when he spoke to suspects in interrogation.

Harry looked disgruntled and sounded as if he were forcing a gall stone. "He bloody smiled at me, okay?" Ron chuckled and Harry dutifully ignored him. "It was like the fucking sun was shining  _on_  my face." He looked mortified, his hands gesturing to demonstrate the 'rays'. "I was blushing – it was embarrassing. He looked around again. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Ron laughed. "Fuck no. Just because his teeth shone some light on your face? I think not." He turned back to his work.

Harry broke out his beseeching face. " _Ron_." He uncrossed his arms, laying them on the desk at either side of where he stood.

Ron didn't even look up. " _Harry_ ," he mimicked in kind.  Harry shut his eyes in mortification and bent over, resting his elbows on Ron's desk as he stood. Ron eyed him curiously. "It's not that I don't appreciate the view, but I don't swing that way. You know you can't convince me like that."

Harry smacked his head on Ron's desk before holding his head in his hands. He turned to his friend. "I've never seen anything like it." Ron watched him closely. Harry did actually look a little astonished. If not of Draco, then of his reaction towards the blond. That alone was worth paying attention to. "I saw it and I couldn't see anything else, it was just...  _him_. I even dreamed of him.  And not even in the way you'd think I would." Harry was staring at the wall of Ron's cubicle. After a moment Ron actually looked in the same direction to see what was so mesmerising. As he spotted the small rip in the soft cushioning of the partition and wondered how the hell _that_ happened, a resolute look dawned on Harry's face. "I want it, I want to wake up to it – every day – I want... I want  _him._ " Harry paused, tasting the words on his tongue.  _Delicious_.

"For how long?"

Harry stared at his friend, feeling as helpless as his expression suggested. "As long as he'll have me."

He found Ron watching him with a careful expression. "I wasn't kidding when I said the guy's a force of nature."

The sense of relief at Ron's words made Harry realise exactly how much he'd hoped for a positive answer. "I don't doubt that. So what do I do?" His elbow on the desk, Harry's fingers raked through his hair, pausing midway to prop up his head. He looked stressed.

Ron seemed amused when he laughed, but Harry could help but feel he was laughing at Harry's expense. His best friend took pity on him. "The same thing anyone does when they're facing a natural disaster." At Harry's guarded curiosity, Ron chuckled. "Oh it  _will_ be a disaster. If he doesn't chew you up before he spits you out, you'll be lucky."

"What's your plan then?"

Ron's smile was slow and steady. "Disaster preparedness."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry turned the pages of the manual Ron had told him about the day before. He'd meant it as a joke but Harry still wanted to be careful. Draco may not be a natural disaster as Ron put it, but getting caught in the crosswind of his anger could still put a man in hospital. Gareth Pavil was proof of that. Besides, he was curious what the manual would say, how it would differ from those that existed in the Muggle world. With magic on their side, he imagined the emergency procedures would differ. As he read through, he found out some spells he'd never thought to use before, but other than that it was pretty standard ' _Stand in doorways and get under sturdy desks_ '. He wouldn't mind a sturdy desk being involved in his plans. He grinned.  _Like the one in Draco's office_. He wouldn't be getting under it though.

 _Hmm_ , he smiled to himself,  _perhaps this manual could be of assistance after all..._

_**"Always make sure your kit is fully stocked. Ensure extra food and emergency supplies are fresh and adequate."** _

Harry looked up, staring blankly towards his kitchen.  _Extra food... huh._

"Blaise."

Blaise Zabini raised his head from the magazine he was reading. He promptly lowered it again. "Potter. What do you want?"

Harry was unsure about Blaise; since he'd met the man again he'd been a little hot and cold. He didn't know if it was his pregnancy or his nature. "I would like a word with your boss, if you don't mind."

Blaise scoffed. "And I'd like to know why you're trying to get into his pants, if  _you_ don't mind." His hand violently flipped the page.

Caught off guard, Harry replied as much as he could. "Er, what?"

Blaise let out a humourless chuckle raising his head. "Oh, and you've suddenly gone deaf, delightful." He didn't sound as worried as his expression implied.

Spluttering, Harry said, "I'm not –"

"And now you lie," Blaise deadpanned. He lowered his head one last time to his magazine and turned the page. Harry was sure he hadn't taken in anything from the page. "Good day, Potter." He turned another page.

Staring at the dark-skinned man, Harry wondered at the protective streak everyone seemed to have towards the blond. Then again, he couldn't talk, could he? "Okay, Blaise, look." Blaise turned back to him, ready for his excuse. Harry disliked the look but didn't have any way of wiping it off the pregnant man's face. "I like him, okay? A lot. I realise there seem to be quite a bit of people that are protective of him –" He thought back to the group of men he'd seen talking about Draco at a table in the cafeteria. "– and another set who are a little unsavoury in their intentions if you ask me –"

"I didn't," Blaise said, cutting him off.

Harry stumbled in his words when Blaise stopped him. "Er, okay. But they  _are_ , and I swear if Malcolm Tinebridge doesn't stop ogling him every time he bends over –" Harry took a deep breath to stop himself. He was supposed to be over this kind of behaviour. Four years of meditation and training and all it took was one smile from Malfoy to break it. He shut his eyes, remembering it. "That fucking smile." He shook his head at himself wondering how long it would take him to get over this. This kind of behaviour wasn't normal. He suddenly realised he was just standing there with Blaise staring at him. He blushed red and looked away.

Blaise surveyed him for a few seconds before turning to his desk. "The next time you come here, you will bring me chocolate éclairs."

Harry frowned, not understanding what that meant. "What about – you're not gonna to let me in?"

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. "Draco isn't here. But if you want to get in when he is, you will do as I say."

Harry stared at the door, dejected.  _He isn't here?_ "Do you know where he is?"

Blaise shrugged as he turned yet another page in his magazine. "He's at the hall; the window dressings came in and he has to help the decorator sort them and match them to the windows before they're put up later in the week."

Harry nodded his thanks as he started off down the corridor. As suddenly as he left, he stopped. Harry glanced at Draco's office door before turning his attention to the smug gaze of Blaise Zabini. "Who  _else_ is bringing you éclairs?"

Blaise grinned and sat back in his chair as his hand absently ran over his distended stomach. "No one that's obsessing over his  _smile_ , I can tell you that."

Draco caught sight of Harry as he walked into the hall. "Hello Draco."

He forced himself to keep his eyes open as Potter said his name like a physical caress. It wasn't bloody fair that the man could do that. He was certain he didn't – couldn't affect the man in the same way. "Potter," he said, handing a colour chart to his assistant, Audley, "I didn't call you for a consult." Potter was staring at his assistant, who suddenly moved away from Draco, claiming someone was calling him, before his gaze moved to him.

The brunet's eyebrows rose. "I have to be summoned in order to come and see you?"

Draco frowned at that. "Why else would you need to see me?" He saw Harry pause, as if realising Draco posed a valid question. Draco sighed. He wished people would just spit it out when they came to ask him for things. It made everything so much easier.

Harry lifted a bag up for him to see. "I went out for lunch and saw that cafe you and Hermione are always going on about so I decided to pop in and see if they sold real food instead of the treats you both seem to favour. Turns out they do but the size of the portion is way too big for me. I just wondered if you were up for sharing."

Draco stood perplexed. "You want to share it with me?" He tried, very bloody hard, to come up with a logical explanation for this but one just wasn't coming. It didn't make any sense.

"Well," Harry began, "Ron would wolf it down either way and Hermione has already eaten. I'm willing to bet you've been here all day and haven't had anything in your stomach since the coffee Ron brought you this morning. Besides, you're the only one that would savour a meal like this. You view anything from there as a work of art. It would actually be a privilege to give it to you." He shook the bag gently. "What do you say?"

Draco looked from the bag, to Harry, to the hall and the people busily working around him. Surely if he left for half an hour they wouldn't notice? He turned to find Audley and let him know that he was going for lunch.

"You took him to lunch?" Ron asked him.

Harry smiled. He'd had a really good time sitting in his office. He'd never thought just sitting at a table and talking to Draco would make him so giddy. It was weird. "Yeah – no, actually, I brought him lunch." Ron seemed surprised. "You said he gets asked out a lot and he just refuses." He shrugged. "I tried a different angle."

"A wise angle," Ron said as he leaned back against the wall of the lift. He shut his eyes as he rolled his head around to stretch the muscles of his neck.

"Tired?" he heard, and looked up to see Harry watching him curiously. He nodded.

"Yeah, a load of kids – vandals – used a paint spell to draw rude words on the side of one of the stadiums; Kingsley has them in interrogation, one in each room, trying to see if they'll give each other up. We got two witnesses and each of them is ninety-eight." He rolled his eyes. "Every other word out of their mouth is 'childish' and 'punishment'. It's doing my head in." He looked up to see Harry smiling as he stared at a wall. He gave out a sigh. "Of course, we could just hold them on the words alone; ' _Avada Kedavra Hairy Pothead_ ' should be enough for a conviction these days." He crossed his arms as the lift doors opened.

"Hmm," Harry said. "Wait – what?" he spluttered.

Ron scoffed, uncrossing his arms and shaking his head as he exited, leaving Harry behind. "Don't know why I bother."

"Ron," Harry called. " _Ron_ , I'm sorry. Really." He pulled on his best friend's arm as he stormed to his desk. Ron stopped and allowed himself to be turned around. "I'm just very distracted right now."

Ron stared at him before giving a slight chuckle. "I've heard Draco can do that to a man."

Harry straightened. "What man?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"What's next in your plan of action?" He took off for his cubicle again, dropping the file in his hands down on the desk before sitting down in his chair.

"Well, the manual you got me –"

Ron's eyes widened. "You're actually following it?"

Harry perched on the edge of his desk. "Not all of it, but it has some good pointers. It's how I ended up with Draco having lunch yesterday in my office. I'm thinking of doing it again. Soon." He grinned and stood. "I'm off."

Ron looked up at him; the man seemed happy. He rolled his eyes, knowing where he was off to. "I dread to think where," he said making fun of him.

Harry smiled. "I'm gonna hover in his doorway." Ron frowned, not understanding. Harry noticed. " ** _When experiencing the telltale shakes of an earthquake, find a strong doorway to stand in if you cannot find anywhere safer_** ," he quoted. He grinned and hurried off.

Ron shook his head, still not believing his friend was using an emergency manual to get Draco interested. "I'm seeing this ending badly." He turned back to his file.

It was hard to think of something witty to say when Draco returned to his office to see Harry leaning on his doorframe and talking to Blaise like they were old friends. He handed his assistant the signed contract he had in his hands and walked up to the pair. He should be accustomed to this by now. Harry had been hanging around him for days. His stomach seemed to think it all a novelty, though, and continued to flip over every time he saw the brunet. When he'd turned up at his door with lunch, it was hard to turn him down. It seemed that Potter couldn't cook, as he was always buying his lunch from a cafe or restaurant in Diagon Alley. It also seemed as if Harry had trouble ordering proper portions, because he was always coming to Draco help him polish them off. Draco found it hard to resist saying yes. The food he ordered was always food from a place he liked. Harry's company wasn't so bad either. The man had asked Draco and Hermione where the best places were to eat and they'd told him their usual haunts. Apparently, he'd taken them to heart as he only ever bought food from those places and he always ordered the wrong size meal. Draco chuckled to himself. Living for so long around a monastery must have addled the Saviour's brains.

"Blaise, remind me why I hired you?"

Blaise didn't miss a beat. "Because I'm gorgeous eye candy," he deadpanned.

Draco rolled his eyes. It really was no use, he zeroed his sights on Harry instead. "Potter, what brings you here?"

Harry narrowed his eyes playfully at the blond. "Why do you always insinuate I only come to see you when I want something?"

"Why else would you come here?"

"To prostrate himself at your mercy, obviously," Blaise said. Draco ignored him and focused his attention on the brunet in front of him. He waited.

Harry chuckled. "I actually came to give you this." He reached into his robe pocket. Draco then took the time to notice that Harry had on a set of robes and he actually looked really good in them.

"What's this?" he said, taking the flower from him in surprise.

Harry's smile faltered a little at the confused look on Draco's face. "A rose. You like roses, don't you?"

Draco remained perplexed. "Er, I guess. Why are you giving it to me?" Harry paused. Draco was staring at him as if the entire situation was the strangest thing he'd ever encountered. He faltered.

He fought for something to say, anything. "Well, the colour is nice. I thought you'd like it."

At Harry's words, Draco understood and looked at it again, as if seeing it for the first time. "Actually, that is nice, yes. Where did you get it from?" he asked.

Harry perked up, seeing the renewed interest. It didn't look as if the blond was going to give it back to him now. He smiled proudly. "I made it."

Draco seemed impressed. Harry beamed at the smile he received. "Oh! What spell did you use, can you teach it to me?"

Harry's smile faltered a little again. "Why?" he asked curiously.

Draco was still staring at the rose as he went inside his office followed by Audley, his assistant. Harry eyed the young man as he walked past Harry and into Draco's office. His eyes narrowed a little. He ignored Blaise's chuckle and stepped into the office himself. "Its colour is perfect," he said, distracted. "Hey, Audley, take this to the hall and match it to the table cloths would you, I'm on my way. Isn't this colour perfect?" He handed Audley the rose and the young man set off, probably back to the hall to match the colour of the table cloths to the exact shades of the rose. Harry felt resentful as Audley passed him, giving him a sympathetic look as he went. "Nice work, Potter, not bad. This may save me a lot of time." Draco was rifling through his desk drawers until he found a file he was searching for. "Ah!" he said, getting it, and patted Harry's arm as he passed him by on his way out.

"I aim to please," he said quietly as Draco walked away. "Sadly."

Hermione met her best friend in his office. He'd promised to take her to lunch by way of apologising for stealing her usual eating companion. Ron was busy with a case and Draco was getting busier as the gala was fast approaching next week. She stepped into his office, quietly knocking on the door to see Harry glaring at his desk.

"Oh dear. What has your desk done to you this time?" she asked him light-heartedly.

Harry's gaze snapped up to her and his expression softened into a smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking."

Hermione walk-waddled to the other chair in the room and sat down slowly. She was due soon. The Minister had insisted she take her maternity leave; there was already a stand-in for her waiting to take over for the months she would be away, but Hermione had wanted to come to work. Her job wasn't dangerous and she sat down for most of the day anyway. She'd go crazy if she stayed at home, she just knew it. "Now there's a dangerous pastime."

He chuckled. "You should know."

She nodded. "I should." She relaxed back into the softness, wishing she could lean forward and touch his hand. "Come on, what's bothering you?"

Harry seemed stressed. He'd been bridging the gap between crazed delight and dejection since he'd come back to the ministry and she had an idea why. It was sweet, actually, how Harry seemed to be courting Draco. Too bad the blond hadn't noticed. Hermione shook her head at Draco's obliviousness; for all he confided in her about wanting someone to show him they wanted him for something outside of the bedroom, the blinders he had on were pretty effective. "Hermione, I think I'm going mad." He was laughing, but Hermione had a feeling it wasn't at anything remotely funny.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean –" Harry began, but stopped. He didn't sound like he knew where to go from there. "I don't know what I mean any more. He's driving me insane. I've tried everything. I even followed the stupid book and nothing I do is getting through to him." Harry stood up and started pacing. "I'm bringing him lunch nearly every day, we're eating lunch together and all he does is say thank you then go back to work." He stopped and stared at her. Hermione was taken aback by the frustration she could see brewing in his eyes. "I brought him a rose last week, did you know? I spent  _ages_ adjusting the spell Brother Matthews taught me to adjust the colour and he just uses it to match to bloody tablecloths and curtains." Hermione recognised the name from the letters Harry used to send her and Ron when he was away. Brother Matthews had helped him come to terms with a lot in his life. "I meet him at the hall every day just to see his face and he still insists that I'm there only because I want something. It's frustrating, Hermione. Nothing I do is good enough. Anyone else that comes up to him, he sees as wanting to get into his pants. What am I doing wrong?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You want him to see you as one of those men trying to get into his pants?"

Harry raked his hands through his hair like he wanted to scream. "No! But I would like to know how to get out of this  _friend-zone_ he's slotted me into without being seen as a potential mannequin for his wand practice."

Hermione felt the giggle and fought it down for Harry's sake. "Oh Harry, you have to forgive him. He's not used to the kind of attention you're giving him. What you're doing is the same thing me and Ron do all the time. Maybe going at it from this angle is better. He sees you as a friend now, so all you have to do is give him a little push so he can see you in a new light. Whatever book you're using, keep at it. It seems to be working."  _Spoken like a true friend who doesn't know I'm using an Emergency Procedures Manual as a reference guide._ He didn't feel like divulging that piece on information; she sounded so proud of him, he didn't want to ruin the moment. Harry was kneeling on the floor next to her now and she ran her hands through his hair in comfort.

He raised his head. "Really?" he said, hopeful.

She nodded. "Yeah. He turns me down now when I ask him out for lunch because he's not sure if you're going to order the wrong portion again. He thinks you're frightfully inept at feeding yourself, Harry. It's kind of sweet."

He hung his head. "That's all I need. He pities me because he thinks I don't know how to order a take-away?"

Hermione laughed. "Maybe, but I'm sure he looks forward to it or else he wouldn't turn me down, would he? I've been having lunch with Ron instead." He nodded then, figuring at least the situation he was in had a silver lining. He stood up.

"You ready to go then?"

Hermione nodded and stood with his help. "Yeah, I'm starving." He led her out, closing the door behind them and caught sight of the manual Ron had given to him weeks ago. He'd abandoned it after a while, seeing as the advice he was taking from it didn't seem to be working, but he figured maybe he'd give it one more try.

_ _

**_In the event of an emergency, stay away from lifts and always use the stairs._ **

It seemed practical, but didn't fit with his plans. He needed to get the blond alone with no chance of interruption, and the lifts seemed the best place since no one else would be able to get in for a while if he hit the emergency stop button.

He caught Draco as he was leaving for the day. The gala was two days away and the blond looked so tired he was nearly dropping where he stood. Harry felt for him. He'd had days like that lately, going between stadiums and the ministry and simultaneously trying to get the blond to notice him. It was tiring work. They were walking towards the lifts, his hand at the small of Draco's back as he got the blond to follow along before the blond realised where he was.

Draco began edging to the stairs, yawning. "These lifts always take so long to get here, I'm taking the stairs."

Harry shook his head. "Nope, no stairs for you. You're likely to fall down them the rate you're going." He tugged in the man's robe sleeve. Draco seemed reluctant. "It's one floor. Come on," he wheedled. "What can happen?"

Draco was about to answer him when the lift answered for him, opening on their floor, the announcer telling them where they were as soon as the doors were open. There wasn't anyone else there. It was fast approaching five. Harry tugged a little more. "Come on, don't make me ride this thing alone." When Draco looked at him he playfully stuck out his lower lip, making the blond laugh at him.

Draco huffed. "Fine, if you need the company that badly." He followed Harry inside, leaning heavily against a railing with his eyes closed resting for the ride. Harry watched him with a smile as he pressed the button for the atrium and then carefully leaned against the control panel. When the doors closed and the lift began to move, he eyed Draco carefully and nudged the button at the bottom.

"Shit!" Draco exclaimed as the lift suddenly stopped. The lights went out and the monotonous voice that usually declared what floor they were on was politely explaining that they were now trapped until help could come.

Harry stood up straight from his inconspicuous lean against the control panel just before the emergency lights came on. The building above the ministry had been converted into an art gallery. Electricity had been filtered from above after many fights during the war had rendered parts of the ministry magic-less. There were some departments that couldn't get inter-department memoranda any more because the damn things couldn't fly. Even the lift had suffered, but no one had noticed until someone tried to get into the courtrooms and the lift had suddenly decided to plummet.

Electricity was just safer, all round.

"Oh dear," Harry said trying to sound equally as worried as the blond that was desperately pressing buttons like a man possessed. "I don't think that's going to help."

Draco was panting. "It has to help. I have to get out of here."

Harry frowned. That didn't sound like the Malfoy he knew. He looked closer and could see a glint of panic in the blond's eyes, causing Harry's mind to bring up images. How Draco had needed convincing that taking the lift up one flight would be easier than taking the stairs, how he'd seemed to stiffen when Harry tugged his sleeve, how he leaned so close to the wall with his eyes closed as soon as he'd entered the small enclosed space. How Ron and Hermione always came upstairs, passing many floors to visit Draco, and never the other way around, and, lastly, when, on his first day back in England, he'd seen Draco walking towards the lifts before seeing the blond take the stairs. He'd thought the reason behind it had been his knowledge of how long the lifts would take to arrive. He couldn't have been any more wrong.

 _Well, shit_ , Harry thought as Draco began to hyperventilate. Well, if this didn't bugger up his plans he didn't know what did.

"Ron, I'm losing my mind. I don't know what else to do." Harry raked his hands through his hair as he helped the decorator with the window dressings. The gala was set for that evening, the Quidditch World Cup finale starting in two hours. The two men had been roped into manual labour when the minister had ordered all hands on deck. Harry rolled his eyes. He was sure that decree had come from Hermione and he only had to guess who'd given her the idea. His gaze strayed to Draco as he directed people left right and centre. The hall looked gorgeous. Draco had outdone himself. The immense oak doors stood at the entrance of the hall and the large room was outfitted in shades of marble: cream, red and grey. Harry recognised the shade of red sadly and ignored it. The white walls throughout the room added a maximum of light, aided by the great chandelier above that hung with valour. It all complemented the texture of the alabaster stone ceiling and intricate filigree lines of silver, threaded through the pillars, fused in the walls that surrounded them.

"That's too high!" Harry stared down at the woman below them and frowned. They hadn't even moved. He lowered his hand nonetheless. He and Ron were on a ladder on either side of a high window. Each had a side of a large swath of red and cream material. They were a good ten feet up.

Ron adjusted his side too. "Are you sure you've tried everything? What about the manual?"

They both raised their hand higher as the twist of material was suddenly too low. "Fuck the manual, the manual is not working." He couldn't seem to get the image of Draco hyperventilating in the lift from two nights ago out of his mind. The man was two heartbeats away from an attack by the time a maintenance crew had arrived. Harry never wanted to get through that again.

"Hmm. Well, only one thing left to do then."

Subconsciously their hands followed the woman's instruction and moved lower. "What's that?"

Ron chuckled. "Just outright tell him."

"What?" Somehow, that suggestion made Harry want to revert to their previous plan.

Ron was shaking his head. "Mate, I don't know what else to tell you. I was sure that Draco would figure it out by now. He isn't usually this thick." Finally they were able to use a sticking charm and come down the ladder.

"What do you mean you 'were sure Draco would figure it out.'?" he asked incredulously.

Ron laughed. "Harry, the man gets lines and plays like yours all the time. Handing him conjured roses, getting 'trapped' in a lift, meeting him with pre-packed food for a spontaneous lunch?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Greater men than you have fallen at less. It seems to me it's either you having any interest in him doesn't even register in his mind, or he's so out of it with this gala that he's gone daft."

"Who's gone daft?" they heard behind them, and turned to see the subject of their discussion walking up to them.

Ron smirked. "You have."

Harry turned to his friend in horror. "Ron."

Draco stared between the two of them. "What?"

Ron crossed his arms. "Draco, have you noticed anything different about Harry lately?" he asked him.

Harry glared at him. " _Ron_."

Draco wasn't sure who to focus his attention on, Ron who seemed smug or Harry who was glaring at the red-head as if he wanted to punch him. "What?" He chanced a glance at the brunet, looking for changes. "Why? What's he done to himself?"

Ron seemed astonished that he hadn't noticed. "Surely you must have noticed. He's in love." He watched and waited for Draco's reaction. And there it was. It was almost as if he was watching someone stab Draco in the heart. As soon as the look passed over his face, though, the expression was gone.

"O-Oh. That's nice." Draco began looking around.  _Probably to find something to do so he can escape_ , Ron thought.

 _Can't have that_. "Does it bother you?" he slotted in with a small smile, just because.

Draco turned back to him and saw Harry watching him to as if waiting for his reaction. "Why would it bother me?" he answered to Ron.

Ron suddenly broke out into a big smile. "Because he's in love with  _you_."

Harry, who'd been curious before, suddenly turned grave and snapped his gaze to his – now former – best friend. "Ron!" he accused.

Draco's world seemed to have stopped spinning on its axis. "Me."

Ron grinned and then waved. "Later." He hurried off, leaving the two of them alone in a room filled with people.

Harry, desperate now, paled. "Ron! Oh I will kill him," he added quietly to himself.

"You're in love with  _me_?" Draco was still staring at him. He too looked a little pale. Harry hoped he was breathing.

Harry knew what he wanted to say in response to that, but the words didn't seem to be coming. "I–er–well..." He was blushing, he knew it. He had to focus, damnit. Something about Draco just turned him back into the stuttering teenager he'd been before he went away.

When it didn't sound like anything else was forthcoming, Draco frowned. "You, er, well, what?" he prompted.

"Gentlemen! Please, if you aren't helping I suggest you move aside." Both of them turned to the caterer that Draco had hired. Now that the hall was finished, she was in charge of laying out the buffet.

Harry looked around. The hall really did look amazing. Draco was seriously talented to have coordinated all of this in a month. He sighed. The man was amazing. "Let's go back to your office," he said finally. "I think we need to talk."

Blaise had stayed home due to an upset stomach, so the door to Draco's office was unguarded by the magazine-reading secretary. In Draco's office, Ron's impromptu declaration of Harry's feelings was more apparent now that they were alone. Draco turned to face him, perched on his desk and waited for Harry to speak. Harry looked like he didn't know where to start.

"So," Draco said. "You're in love with me." The words sounded odd; it was hard to relate them to the man in front of him. Draco hadn't detected any interest coming from the brunet before now. "Where did this come from?"

Harry's gaze, which had been avoiding him before, suddenly fixed on him and Draco froze. "Seriously?" Harry looked incredulous.

Draco paused. "What?"

The sceptical look remained. "You seriously didn't notice." Harry ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head at himself. "Ron told me you hadn't but I didn't – I couldn't believe him, I mean – I thought I made it pretty obvious." His hands made wild gestures as he spoke. He stepped closer. "I brought you lunch nearly  _every_  day from your favourite cafe and took you to my office to eat with you  _privately_. I went to see you all the time when you didn't even want me around. I – hell, I even tried to get stuck with you in the lift as a final attempt to get you to notice –"

That last part affected Draco the most. "That – you did that on  _purpose_!"

Harry spluttered. He felt guilty enough as it was. Every time he remembered Draco's state in the lift his stomach turned. "I didn't know you were  _claustrophobic_! I just didn't know what else to do. You're so fucking frustrating... in the best possible way." Harry's expression was hopeless. "What else can I do? How can I make you see?"

Merlin above, Draco actually looked _confused._  "I – I don't... I didn't know."

Harry held out a beseeching hand. "Well... why did you think I was doing it, Draco?" Harry stared at him, waiting for an explanation. He took a halting step closer.

Flabbergasted, Draco's mouth opened several times before he finally managed, "Because you're weird," Draco said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought you were just being nice or... that Granger or Weasley had talked you into it. They've done it before with people to make them back off. I wanted you t – but I can't hope for things like that. They just don't happen to me."

Harry stepped closer still, valiantly wishing he'd heard that correctly. He ignored the fact that Draco thought he was just strange. "You hoped?"

Draco let out a quick breath. "Well, of course I did. Have you seen yourself? People are drawn to you, and for good fucking reason too. You approached me with lunch, pretty much telling me you were sharing it with me because you had leftovers and didn't want to waste your money. But I enjoyed the time with you so much I didn't say anything about it. The prospect of you coming to see me for no reason is so out there I'm not even going to dwell on it. Don't even get me started on the lift. You weren't even worried in there. I was seriously beginning to think you had it in for me." He laughed at himself. "I dread to think what I have that would cause you to like me so much."

Harry stepped forward again, gaining confidence with every word Draco spoke. He couldn't believe that they'd been dancing around each other so needlessly. "It was your smile at lunch when we were threatening to cut off that guy's finger." He was much closer to Draco now and the blond wasn't pulling away or trying to hex him. He considered that an improvement.

Draco chuckled. "Really?" Harry nodded.

"So carefree and full of malice," he joked. "So beautiful," he added seriously, brushing some of Draco's hair back behind his ear. Harry pressed against Draco, closer, harder. Draco dropped his hands to balance himself on the edge of the desk as Harry pinned him to it and Harry pushed his advantage. He tilted his head. "I'm going to kiss you now."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "I'm oblivious but I'm not blind, I can see that." He braced himself against the desk and brought his head up, capturing Harry's mouth. One simple kiss turned into two, turned into a dozen, and then Harry lost count. When those kisses stopped being enough, his hands started roaming over Draco's body. He pulled the buttons of Draco's robe and shirt apart, his hands questing inside, aching to feel Draco's skin under his hands. The incredible heat seared his palms and he hissed as Draco arched against him and into his kisses. He broke away from Draco's mouth to explore his neck and ear as his fingers were exploring the creamy expanse of the back. A telltale ridge made itself apparent under his right hand and he felt it immediately when Draco tensed. Harry remembered Ron telling him he was self-conscious about that scar.

Death Eater enthusiasts had taken Ron as he'd been walking in Hogsmeade after the war. When they'd thrown him into a back room of a rundown shop, he discovered Draco was there too, beaten half to death and lying in a corner. They'd been together in the room for six days before Aurors found them. When they did, the kidnappers had got desperate and one of them fired a nasty cutting hex at Ron. Draco had recognised the spell, pushing the red-head out of the way. The cutting hex had sliced at his back near his left shoulder, going up and to the left enough to have caught Ron's neck in the process. By the time the Aurors had got to them Draco had lost a lot of blood and was well on his way to dying.

Draco was pulling away when Harry tightened his hold on him. He held Draco to him. "Don't run from me. Please, I don't care." His forehead was pressed to Draco's temple and he stayed that way, breathing calmly and waiting for Draco to relax. The hands on his biceps remained there, frozen, but little by little they slowly relaxed and Harry sighed, now able to push the robe and shirt off Draco's shoulders to pool on the desk. He pressed even closer, backing Draco up until he was sitting on some proposals addressed to a group of sponsors, his mouth capturing Draco's in the process.

Draco could feel the hardness in Harry's trousers and he rocked his hips into it, his hands moving down between them to pull at Harry's clothes. Breaking from the kiss, Harry's eyes opened, staring at him as he pulled down the zip. Harry smiled at him fondly and Draco found himself once again looking at his teeth. It was strange how his eyes were drawn to them. Maybe something  _was_ wrong with him. Harry ground his hips against him, chasing away all thought, coming towards him for another kiss and swallowing the groan that escaped Draco's lips. As Harry's hands helped divest him of his trousers he could feel his heart beating fast. He couldn't believe this was really happening. He wriggled back some more, lifting up to help Harry pull his pants down. Harry held his hands on the backs of Draco's knees once his lower half was bare to lock them in place, and leaned his forehead against Draco's, locking their gazes as he rocked his hips into him. Their skin came into contact, making him take in a shuddering breath. His eyes never leaving Harry, he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one until the fabric hung on his shoulders and he could push it back and off.

Harry let his shirt fall from his wrists, leaning in to kiss the blond again. He could stand there all day kissing Draco; he couldn't get enough of him, how he felt, how he tasted. He needed him. Now.  _Where is my wand?_ He stepped away for a second to retrieve it from his robe pocket before stepping back into Draco's arms, kissing him again just because he could. A whispered lubrication spell passed between his occupied lips, but he felt his fingers get slicker and he leaned forward, moving his kisses once again to Draco's neck and shoulder as he reached between them to the apex of Draco's thighs.

Draco hissed as the finger breached him, willing himself to relax to the intrusion. Harry waited for the tight grip on his digit to loosen before moving it in and out. He could hear Draco's heavy breathing and eventually felt the blond begin to wriggle on the desk, seeking his own pleasure from Harry's finger. Harry quickly decided to add another, his patience wearing thin when faced with such an erotic sight. By three fingers, Harry was able to find Draco's prostate, amazed at the reaction such a quick graze over that small bump could do to the man before him. Draco's whole body shivered uncontrollably.

"Harry... want you..." Harry sealed his mouth over Draco's once more, opening it with his tongue to deepen the kiss. He slid a hand to the back of Draco's neck to tip his head downwards as he plundered it slowly. Removing his fingers, Harry continued capturing his mouth as he gripped Draco's thighs and thrust upwards into Draco's tight heat. He groaned as he felt his cock sink into the vice-like grip, his knees touching the wood of the desk Draco was seated on.

Draco knew nothing but that he needed more of Harry, every nerve-ending in his body suddenly alight with need. He savoured each and every movement Harry made as he began a steady rhythm, storing every gasp and moan in his mind as if he'd never hear them again. He could feel his erection being rubbed between their stomachs and he leant his head near the shell of Harry's ear. Harry shifted, pushing his face into Draco's hair, almost nuzzling it, and felt the wash of hot breath over his ear as Draco let his breathy moans escape. Keeping Draco's legs around his waist, he leaned his body into the blond's, pulling his head back a little to rest his forehead against Draco's. Parted lips ghosted over his own, barely touching as his cock grazed the sensitive spot his fingers had managed to reach earlier. Draco cried out, tightening around him impossibly, and Harry felt his orgasm approach fast and hard as he continued to thrust into the snug channel.

"Fuck." He said it more to himself as he refrained from coming immediately, but their rhythm had started to deteriorate and he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold out forever. His hand moved to hold Draco's cock and he began quick relentless strokes until he felt Draco tense and bite down on his shoulder. Harry thrust once, twice before he came too, crying out Draco's name into his neck as he thrust once more, as deep as he could go, and held himself there, reluctant to let Draco go.

"Fuck," he said again as he tried to catch his breath, and felt as well as heard Draco's light agreeing laughter. He pressed a light kiss on his lips, which deepened as Draco pulled him closer. He then pressed only a bit harder, the kiss impossibly tender and unhurried. It felt like he could do this forever. When he finally let Draco go he could see Draco was already staring at him.

Draco's hands were slow as they drew some unknown pattern on Harry's chest. This was new. Neither of them had any idea how to approach this situation. He opted for an ice-breaker instead. "So, do you have a date to the gala?" Draco's gaze snapped up to him again and he felt the warm rays of his smile light his face. Draco shook his head. "Would you like one?"

Draco nodded. "I need to go home and change." Harry looked down. He rather liked the outfit he had on now. The look in Draco's eyes told him he knew what he was thinking. "That's not what 'elegant wear' means, Harry."

"Hmm, you think you can skip it altogether?"

Draco shook his head. "I have to go, I planned the thing."

Harry seemed unconvinced but he sighed. "Fine, but don't wear anything too mouth-watering." He'd have to beat the men off with a stick. "Something tells me I'm twice as likely to hex any man that gets near you. I picked up quite a few handy ones when I was away."

Draco smirked. "Maybe we could compare notes."

Harry thought back to Gareth Pavil. His arm had been broken in three places with one spell. He smirked in kind. "Hmm, or maybe I should  _take_ some."

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note for the Brit-pickers: Xerox was bought by a British Paper company, it is considered British now.


End file.
